Fallen Angel
by mahrie
Summary: Christine returns to the Paris Opera, only to find the Phantom in a wreck, the fallen Angel of Music. One-shot fic, completed.


Christine Daaé exited the dungeons with Raoul de Chagny, the Viscount, and they entered his horse-drawn carriage. She felt her head spin dangerously. Her lips tingled from the feel of Erik's on hers, and she shivered slightly. She had betrayed her Angel of Music to the mercy of the angry mob. She had betrayed the one who had taught her to sing. She had betrayed the only person who saw beyond the dancer to see the voice within. As the thoughts flooded her mind, one came out loud and clear. _What am I doing here? Why am I with Raoul, who's just come back into my life recently and when we get married…_Christine began to feel dizzy and closed her eyes momentarily.

"Christine. My wife. Viscountess Christine de Chagny, to be Countess de Chagny," Raoul said, smiling. Christine barely acknowledged him, with neither a smile nor a single word.

"Christine, perhaps you ought to have a rest. You've had a horrific day and that monster…" He clenched his fists angrily, his eyes flashing with fury. Christine finally allowed a hint of a smile to come through, and she whispered softly, "Raoul, I'd really like some time to myself. Please," she said, beseechingly.

Raoul smiled at her again, this time more tenderly. Christine felt her heart lurch dangerously. Perhaps Raoul would be a much safer choice than a murderer, she thought. Murderer. The word haunted her. The mere thought that Erik could kill without feeling and mercilessly frightened her, but it all seemed to seep into the deepest echelons of her heart. This sad, sad man whose live revolved around his love for music had learnt to love – her – and all she had done was to stab him viciously, repeatedly in the heart, and twist his emotions around her finger. She signed with sadness, yet she could not deny that some relief had also returned to her. She might be safe this way, and she could learn to love and adapt to her new home. The joys of music had been robbed from her, and to many in society she was still just a common theatre wench. _No matter_, she thought. _My music is in the past. My life is now here, with the Chagnys. _She felt herself drifting into sleep as the warm air got to her.

"You alone can make my song take flight, it's over now, the music of the night," the soaring voice of her Angel rang out in her mind.

"Christine," he moaned in agony. His heart seemed to be ripped to shreds as she kissed him – to save Raoul. The mournful, pained look in his eyes penetrated her soul and flooded her heart with guilt. She turned away from him hastily, and whispered, "Erik!" and was jolted awake abruptly to find Raoul gazing at her.

"Christine, my love. You must have had a terrible nightmare. What has that murderous creature done to you, he ought to be killed," Raoul said emotionally. "Fear not, for where I take you, we will live in happiness and bliss. Our lives will no longer be haunted by that horrid spectre, who kills with a menace…" They alighted from the carriage, at the Chagnys' mansion.

"Alas, my brother, Philippe, has been killed, probably by the hand of that…man," he said bitterly. "I will return to avenge it one day. But worry not of such things today, Christine. You shall dwell here with me in joy and peace till the end of time,"

Erik placed his hands to his face and peeled the mask away from his face bitterly. No, the angel of Music had fallen. No more covering up his true self, and hiding the grotesque face that lay beneath. Christine Daaé, he thought furiously. And the viscount. Le Viscomte de Chagny, he thought, his face contorting into an expression that would have horrified anyone. Oh, how he hated de Chagny with a vengeance. Christine had been under his spell. She had called him her Angel of Music. "Mon ange," she had whispered to him through he glass of the dressing room more than once. Oh yes, it was le Vicomte's fault. He had torn Christine's innocent love and dreams apart, and destroyed the music. The glorious music which was no more. Every note he played with passion on the piano was for Christine, was for their love and the entwining of their souls. Now all that was gone. Yes, he must burn these items that reminded him so painfully of her. Except for the Requiem Mass. His Requiem Mass. He would die playing it, he thought. To die with his music than to betray Christine. No, that monster in him was one who yearned for heaven and salvation. Must it always be so hard on him?

He opened a treasure chest full of manuscripts and finished piano scores. He had intended on presenting them to Christine after they had been married. When she had left, these memories remained. No. These scores and manuscripts must be locked up again, and never let out. He would never let his heart loose again, or see the light of day.

"We must get married soon, and return to your native Scandinavia after that. Then you will be free! Do not fear to leave, you are no longer under the grasp of that cold, cruel monster!" Raoul commanded.

She smiled weakly and murmured, "Raoul, are we being fair to him? He has known nothing but music, and never knew love, but he could love despite that. Condemn him not, for there is nothing you can blame him for," she said sadly. "And I do pity him, Raoul, I really do. I pity him for being who he has become," she finished, tears filling her eyes.

"Christine, you still love him," Raoul thundered, his eyes bright with anger and fear. "After all he has done to you and to all the others…Joseph Buquet…Yet you still sympathize with him!"

Christine's eyes hardened. "It is not his fault. Life has shaped him to be who he is now, you don't know half of it," she said coldly.

"There is no other reason to it, Christine. You lap up his lies willingly only because you still love him," Raoul said angrily, exiting the room and slamming the door shut behind him. Meanwhile, Christine sat at the desk, burying her face in her cold hands and allowed the tears to flow.

Common theatre wench, they had called her. Yes, she had simply been stringing him along, for the money and of course she had never loved him. She had tried to push him away, and tried to avoid him…it all seemed too obvious now. She was always refusing him entry to her dressing room, while she sang duets with that monster. That man who was so hideous, a mask hid his face at all times. A man whose sense of integrity was so compromised. Well, in that case, if Christine had found that worth pitying, he would have nothing to do with her. Find a respectable, titled lady and get married was always the advice from well wishers. Well, he'd certainly do so this time.

Yet, if she had been in such despair and sadness about the whole affair and her sorrow at leaving behind the Phantom, why had she saved him to begin with? As a means of thanking him for all the memories, but no, I don't want to marry you? Did she feel purely pity for the Phantom, or was there still something more? Raoul shook his head in confusion. They did such strange things sometimes, he thought to himself. Yes, Christine was still the good girl he'd known, his childhood friend. Christine had saved him for love. If he chose to believe it, then it would be true. After all, he thought pensively, there was nothing that the Phantom could give Christine that he couldn't.

Christine felt tears trickle down her face. She was furious at herself for ever contemplating- and actually – leaving the Paris Opera, and also immensely guilty for abandoning her Angel of Music. As she sank into a stupor, Raoul came into the room again, and pulled her into a passionate embrace.

"Christine, my dear, I am so sorry for what I said," he said softly. Christine felt a tinge of disturbance run through her, and slither under her skin as the conflicting emotions overwhelmed her. She finally decided to relax. _Erik, I'm sorry, but this chapter of my life has got to end. I cannot live my whole life thinking about you and the joy you brought to my life, _she thought sadly before surrendering her soul back to where she now forced her loyalties to lie – with Raoul, le Viscomte de Chagny.

"Dry those tears, my dearest Christine," Raoul said softly, engulfing her in another hug and wiping her tears away gently. She stared at him with bright eyes, and smiled at him.

"Thanks, Raoul," she said. Perhaps for her it would be best if they got married soon. They'd have no way of breaking up without being scrutiny by the rest of the Chagnys. She shivered at the thought of being in the public eye again, and gazed at him, recognizing the contours of his face, the familiarity of his warm eyes…Yes, he would always be her dear friend Raoul.

"Have any of your relatives heard of the engagement yet?" Christine asked. She had no intention of facing angry hordes of Chagnys – elites who expected Raoul to marry some titled lady or other. No, she would never do. To them all, she was just a common girl with no inheritance.

"Christine, they would barely approve, but we shall still carry on with the marriage. Your dearest Mamma Valerius would be most pleased," he said, smiling. Yes, her old life was over. A new one awaited her.

One Month Later-

The gardens of the sprawling mansion of the Chagny estate was artfully decorated for a lavish wedding. Christine sat by the window, gazing out and looked at the beautiful springtime blooms, the trees and the lush green foliage dotting the lawn. As she glanced at her reflection in the mirror, she placed the veil daintily over her head. Goodness, it was familiar. The mere action reminded her of Erik placing the veil over her head. It was too painful to think about the past, and she looked away hurriedly. It was supposed to be the most memorable day of her life, yet her Angel of Music was nowhere in sight. Surely with Raoul being the prominent character in society he was, Erik must have heard of their imminent wedding. It had certainly set tongues wagging amongst the more conservative circles in society, but they nevertheless continued with it. She had thrown herself fully into her new life, pretending to socialize with the Marquis and the ladies of high society, but her heart still ached for the comforting presence of the Paris Opera, Meg Giry, Madame Giry, even the managers. And her precious Erik. She knew what she had to do before Raoul returned. He had gone to fetch his ailing aunt to the wedding. Breaking the engagement at this hour would cause a scandal, but she had to return to the Opera. Slipping off her engagement ring, she placed it on her dresser table, and hastily made a run for it. She flagged down a hackney cab, and arrived within minutes. She alighted and slid off the satin slippers, and dashed barefooted through the Paris Opera.

"Meg? Madame Giry?" she called as she neared the ballet chamber. Strains of beautiful music from Delibes' ballet floated ethereally and reached her ears. A rush of familiarity flooded her, and she smiled wryly. Not too long ago, she was one of those ballet dancers too. As she opened the door, she caught Madame Giry's eye.

"Five minutes, Mademoiselles," she said, clapping her hands briskly together.

"Meg! And Madame Giry!" Meg glanced at her and could barely believer her eyes.

"Christine! You would have made a beautiful bride," she breathed.

Madame Giry turned a shrewd eye on her. "But you returned instead, Christine," Society's in an uproar over your marriage, but you returned," Madame Giry said. "Meg, if it's all right, I'd like a private word with Christine,"

"Christine, I've been down to see him many times since you left. He's not doing well, my child. He's lost his muse and his music. He feels that his time here is about to be over, and sadness doesn't even begin to describe it. He's relishing and immersing himself in the pain, and plays his Requiem repeatedly. It frightens me, Christine. He seldom, if ever, watches any more performances, not even from Box Five. He's become a fallen wreck of a musician," Madame Giry said sadly.

"He was a genius, but that is all in his past. He is nothing now, just living in the memories of the past," she said. Christine didn't have to hear anymore. She took off for her old dressing room, and gazed into the mirror resolutely. She pushed hard on the mirror, and entered the catacombs of the Paris Opera.

Yes, the strains of the Requiem echoed eerily through the underground dungeons. The hell that he'd created for himself to hide his face from the world – Christine stood outside his lair, gazing in. Erik's fingers flew deftly over the keys of the piano. The white and black keys melted into perfect magic, all in a harmony of musical notes blending into one. It brought tears to Christine's eyes. Her beloved teacher, angel and true love. Now this wreck before her eyes, resigned to his fate and wait for Death to claim him…She had to go to him, to let him know that she hadn't forsaken him.

"Erik, my angel of Music," she called out softly. He leapt off the piano bench, cape swishing and eyes blazing with hurt, and anger.

"Christine, why have you returned? To mock at the figure I've become? Music is no longer my expression. I've been betrayed by my voice, my protégée. Trouble in Paradise, Christine? Why return for the forsaken Angel of Music?" Christine felt her heart go out to him completely.

"Erik," she started.

Oh, how his heart ached for her to sing again.

"Erik, I returned because I couldn't love le Viscomte," she replied truthfully. The Phantom looked at her. His eyes flashed furiously. "So Erik will always be your faithful lapdog, for you to return to when de Chagny no longer loves you?" Christine stared at him. Oh yes, this was the Erik she knew…and loved nonetheless. He could kill, but there was love inside him. Purest love of the highest, of the gods…

"I broke off the engagement," she said softly, extending her bare hand. He took her hand in his and whispered, "Christine, my love," Christine felt perfectly at ease, as she always was with him.

"Alas, Christine, my days are numbered," he said sorrowfully. He was the epitome of a fallen virtuoso, one that never got his chance to shine, and one that had to be kept hidden because of their hatred for his hideous face.

"Erik, I won't lose you. Not so soon after I've found you again," Christine said regretfully. Erik wrapped his arms around Christine, and she removed his mask, and looked him in the eye without flinching. He pressed his lips to hers and he knew that it was truly for love this time. Christine closed her eyes and savoured the sensations gently prickling her skin, rushing up her…

as they broke apart after a short while, he whispered, "Christine, I need to play my Requiem one last time. If I do not finish it…finish it for me then. Complete my swan song for me," he said. Christine felt tears rushing down her cheeks. This pitiful Angel of Music whom she loved so much was about to be claimed from her again – by the Angel of Death. As Erik walked back to the piano, his fingers danced nimbly, and played a rousing crescendo. The music rushed and swirled around Christine, and she felt emotions tumbling in her like a whirlwind. No! He could not leave, not now, she thought. She knew that he must have been of a considerable age, but he couldn't go, not so soon. Christine felt guilt flood her again. All she ha put her Angel of Music through…As one of his notes faltered, and the music stopped abruptly, Christine darted forwards to him, and pressed her lips to his forehead.

"Erik! Please…can you still hear me?"

"Christine, play. Please let me die to my music. Christine, please finish it for me, my love. My dearest protégée, my only love. It's all a dream – our dream. All that's past is gone, and I forgive you," he said, his voice sounding faraway and trancelike. "I have seen it coming, Christine. I cannot fight Death anymore," he said. He was no longer the paragon of fury that he was not so long ago. Christine sobbed softy to herself as she approached the piano. However, as her fingers touched the ivory keys, she knew what she had to do. Instead of playing the Requiem, she flipped through the manuscripts till she found the Wedding mass, and played it with all her heart and soul.

As she glanced back at Erik's now fallen form, she felt a dam burst inside her. An icy hand gripped her heart, and as she ran over to his lifeless body, she cried for her Angel of Music's salvation. The love that they had shared, the love that they never might have known. She stroked his cheek as she kissed his lifeless lips for the last time. Seeing the faint traces of a smile immortalized on his face in death, she knew that she was finally forgiven. With tears in her eyes, she left the room silently, never noticing hat in Erik's hands, he clutched an unfinished manuscript, titled simply, _Christine._

A/n: Thanks for reading! Now, please review! Thanks! I'm sorry this story was so short (:


End file.
